


Remembrance: Tommi

by Lizzy Landon (Lizzy_Landon)



Category: Hitman: Agent 47 (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2018-10-23 15:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzy_Landon/pseuds/Lizzy%20Landon
Summary: On the run from the ICA, and going through a period of regression from his injuries incurred, from his rooftop face-off with Agent 48. Katia and 47 have split up, and he's met someone. Tommi, a librarian who finds him and nurses him back to health, ends up falling for him. Soon after Agent 47's captured and reactivated. Can he remember the moments and time period spent with Tommi, and does he decide to go back to that life, or stay with what he's known all his life, the Life of an agent.





	1. Tommi

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my original works of fiction at: LizzyLandon.com

MR. 47:

Closing and locking the Library's doors, I make my way to my car. I'm starting the car when out of nowhere a groan from the backseat, causes me to let loose a blood curling scream. "Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you." Hysterical, I'm out of the car and running for the Library's doors. "Wait!, I need your help!" That causes me to come to a stop. Taking deep breaths, I face the intruder. He's leaning on the back door for support, suit bloodied, with a couple of holes in it. I go for my mace. "How did you get in my car!"

"There's no time, we have to go.. now.."

"I'm calling the police!" I yell, reaching in my purse for my phone."

"There's an agent after me, and if you don't get in the car right now, he's going to kill the both of us."

I should be scared out of my mind, but i'm intrigued. This is a scene right out of my thriller/spy novels. "I'll call an ambulance." I say, hand still on my mace. "We'll be dead by then." He says, blood coming from his mouth. Shit, he's badly hurt. "I'll take you to the hospital." I say. "Fine, just get in the car, please."

Heading for the hospital, I keep a watch of him in the rear view mirror. He's lying down, if one can get over the blood and bullet holes, he's not that bad on the eyes. "Don't take me to the hospital." He whispers. "The agreement was that you were going to the hospital."

"He'll find me there."

"Look I don't know who you are, or how you got shot... multiple times..."

"My name's 47, and i'm an assassin. There's another assassin hunting me..."

An assassin named 47, an attractive assassin named 47... is being hunted by another assassin... attractive assassin broke into my car, he's shot up and in my car... my journal's definitely hearing about this.

"Where do you live? I can take you there."

"I don't have a place here."

"No friends, and no family?"

"Not... here." He says before passing out.

What in the holy fuck... "Hey... 47... hey... shit!" He doesn't want to go to the hospital, so I take him to my place. Getting him into my home is a nightmare. I half drag, half pull him into the house. I hate to do it but I leave him on the floor, while I call my brother. All of his business dealings aren't entirely legal, he should know what to do.

Waiting for Dalton to arrive, I place a pillow under his head, in an attempt to make him more comfortable. Undoing his shirt, I note his well built torso, and sturdy arms. "Geez..." The doorbell ringing, has me rushing to the door. I'm greeted by my brother and a man of short stature. "Where is he? Asks the man. "In the living room." I say, pointing the way. "You bringing home strays now? Asks Dalton, as I follow him into the living room.

Examining him, he's shot four times. The make shift doctor sets to work removing the bullets. Waking up, he has the man by the throat squeezing, and Dalton pulls a gun. "Hey! really?" I say, to Dalton. "He's here to help, let him please." I say, to 47. Releasing the doctor, he tries to give him a sedative intravenously. "No drugs..." He makes out. "It'll help, there's no need to suffer through this." I admonish. Nodding the go ahead to the doctor, he administer's the shot.

His wounds are healing, and I insist on him staying in the guest room until he's completely healed. He's a good patient, a bit of a recluse though. Refuses any social interactions with me, but has a constant flow of deliveries from designer shops. "The man certainly has taste." I say, looking at a $1,500 invoice for a suit.

"It's me, I wanted to know if you would like to accompany me to the..." I say, knocking on his door.

He opens the door, dressed to the nines, and I have to catch my breath. If I thought that he was attractive shot up and bloodied, he makes for a stunning figure cleaned up. "Um..." I'm at a loss for words. "Yes?" He inquires. "There's this thing that my brother does, yearly... I was wondering if you would like to go with me. You know, get out the house... get some fresh air."

"I don't do "things". He says, watching me intently. "Yeah, so... I'll see you later hopefully." This is the most that we've ever said to each other.

"I'm leaving."

"What? No, you haven't even begun to completely heal. I've read that it can take anywhere from 3-6 months to heal from a gun shot wound. Not to mention, that you had four of them." I say. We rarely had any interactions, aside from me cleaning his wounds, and changing the gauze, but it's nice to have someone here with me.

"I've put you in enough danger."

"Please, if he was an assassin worth his salt, wouldn't he have found me by now?"

"What do you know about assassins?"

"I read books..."


	2. Agent 47

She's attractive... a distraction, and watching her through the library's glass windows, she's nose deep in a spy novel. An easy target, she'll have to do. 

Its a simple task gaining access to her car, and her home. She's a bored librarian, craving excitement and unbeknownst to her, she's going to get more than what she's campaigning for.

He knows where I'm at, and I've bided my time, waiting for him to strike. What is he waiting for?

An invitation to her brother's thing, is declined, but I accept her offer to stay. I should have known that there would be a price, for an extended stay, room and board.

Sitting across from me at a restaurant, her green eyes glinting with a mild anger, the urge to touch her fiery mane alarms me.

She's beautiful...

"I never have a date, it's always lonely Tommi, no man... I'm gonna bring my vibrator, introduce him and be like "Hi, Jules... I'd like you to meet Victor, the Vaginator..." She's such a bitch..."

And vulgar too...

"When is the conference?"

"Next week."

"I'll go with you."

"Will you? Oh my god... thank you so much. See, we'll get you out of that shell you're in... make sure that you're..."

"Don't make me change my mind."

That shuts her up, her neck twisting with an attitude, she stuffs her mouth with salad.

I can read people really well, but I must have missed something  
in this reading, apparently this isn't going to be as easy as I thought it would.

 

Coming back from the conference, she's delighted, chattering on about the night's events.

Walking down the street, we're accosted by two men, brandishing guns, they motion for us to move into the alley.

Laughing, hands raised in surrender... she follows them.

"You too..." He says, to me.

"You guys are in so much shit... my date is an assassin, and he's going to kill you."

"Oh is that so?"

Trying to take her bag, she fights for it, pulling it back.

"Hey lady, you want to die over fifty bucks, thats fine with me." He says, cocking the gun.

"Do what he says." I state.

"You're not going to do anything?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Kick some ass, that's what I want you to do."

"This aint a democracy, let him rob us, dont let him rob us... give it up."

Hands behind my head, I allow them to search me.

"Where's your wallet?"

"I don't have one."

"Oh shit... look at this." Says one, relieving me of one of my handguns.

"I cant let you have that, it's a personal favorite."

"Well, I'll just help myself to the other one too." 

Breaking the arm going for my gun, I have him turned, his back to me, slowly applying pressure to his head.

"Ah...!"

Snatching Tommi's bag, the other raises his gun to me.

"Return the lady's belongings or I'm going to break his neck."

"Ah... give it back, give it to her.... Ah...!"

"Wait... wait... just let him go, its just a purse, there's only about twenty bucks in there." Pleads, Tommi.

Looking from Tommi, to the victim, then to me, he takes off leaving his partner behind.

"No honor amongst theives..."

His neck breaking with a resounding crack, I let his lifeless body drop to the ground.

Retrieving my gun, Tommi's watching me with a horrific stare.

"You killed him..."

"I did."

"It was just a purse, you didn't have to do that." She says, going to his lifeless body.

"We have to call for help."

"It's too late for that..." I state. pulling her away from him.


	3. Tommi

"He killed him... just broke his neck..."

I'm venting to Troy, a regular patron of the library, a friend. I stayed up all night, and in the wee hours of the morning I crept out and left the murderer in my home.

"You have to go to the police."

"Yeah right, and get both of us killed."

His face registers surprise, and mistrust, before I'm being pushed out the front door. 

"Ow...!" I state, my bag of belongings hitting me in the back, as the door slams shut.

Nowhere else to go, I hang out at a coffee shop, and do some window shopping. I'm settling in for a nap on a bench at the beach, when a shadow blocks the light.

His face coming into focus, my stomach does a lurch, and I make an attempt at rising, when blood splatters onto my face.

There's mayhem, as two more shots ring out. In shock, I wipe the blood away, my hands shaking, my breathing spasmodic, 47 pulls me to my feet and another bullet piercing his shoulder hits me in the chest.

Waking... I'm in bed, in a room... somebody's room, because it sure as hell isn't mine.

There's a dull ache in my chest, and upon further examination, I'm patched up. The events of that day replays vividly in my mind, and attempting to move produces a hellish pain, that forces me back onto the bed.

Footsteps drawing nearer sends me into panic mode, and literally rolling to the floor, the room darkens. The excruciating pain shooting through my upper body causes me to cry out.

The door opening, I attempt to scoot under the bed. I feel like a damn fool, as shoes come into view, and give up on trying to hide, and just lie there.

My captor doesn't say anything, and I'm too winded and in pain to even attempt to put a face to the shoes.

"Are you just going to stare at me, or help me up?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Relief and then dread grips me... agent 47.

Lifting me effortlessly, and gently putting me back onto the bed, im confused. He's assessing the damage done to my wound, when I go for his shirt, grimacing from the pain.

"What are you doing?" He inquires, his hand on my wrist stopping me.

"You were shot... again, how is it that you're not bedridden yourself?"

"I heal faster than normal."

Not that damn fast.

"How long have I been out?"

"Just a few hours." He says, rebandaging me up.

He's meandering around and lifting me, like he didn't just get shot four times today.

"Do you need help with changing your bandages?"

"No, I'm fine."

Theres no need to ask, but I do anyways.

"Was it the assassin, that did this?"

"Yes, an assassin."

Leaving me with my suspicious thoughts, it's the next day when I see him again. 

 

"Can you handle a bath on your own, or do you need help?" He asks, taking me into his arms.

Indignant and struggling to break free, he tightens his hold on me.

"You can't just pick me up, whenever you feel like it. You have to respect my space, and person."

He doesn't respond immediately, and i'm afraid that he may drop me back onto the bed. The man's capable of anything, so I latch onto his shirt, just in case.

"Do you need my assistance getting to the bathroom or not?"

"Yes, please." I manage, with as much humble pie that I can muster up.

Exploring the house, that we've taken up residence in, it's beautiful. A three story, secluded lake house, it's way too big for just one person.

Being nosey I invade his closet, and find numerous suits of quality with over three thousand dollar price tags on them. I think that I'm in the wrong business.

"Oh shit, my job." I state.

"I sent them your resignation." He says, from behind me.

"You did what?"

"You can't go back, you old life is over."

"Like hell it is... my life was fine, until I met you. I was... I wasn't happy, but I was okay with it."

"If you want to live, you'll stay with me until this is over."

"Which will be?"

"When I take down my employer, if they don't kill me first."

"This is bullshit... I didn't ask for this, you just had to break into my car, huh?"

"You looked like you needed some excitement in your life."

"You chose me, it wasn't the luck of the draw?"

Angrily snatching up a pair of shiny shoes, at the expense of an electric shock of pain shooting through my abdomen, I toss them in his direction.

Missing my target, I grab some nice looking watches, and take aim.

"Put those down." He says, gun aimed at me.

"What are you going to do, shoot me?"

"If you don't put them back, I will."

He can't be serious... 

It's a "western stare down", with me reluctantly surrendering the timepieces.

 

He's quiet, eyes closed, I'm unable to concentrate on my book, and can't help stealing glances at him. Its been an hour, he must be asleep.

How, I don't know... only drunk people sleep like that, except they keel over after some time. He's sitting straight up, that has to be uncomfortable.

Curiosity getting the best of me, I slowly and stealthily make my way over to him. kneeling before him, and at a snails pace, I untuck his shirt. 

Wanting to get it over with quickly, my pace hastens, as I unbutton his shirt. My eyes scanning his chest, there's no signs of the wounds, its smooth, and ummarked.

"What..."

"I told you that I heal fast."

His voice startles me, caught in the act...

This makes no sense, there should be some type of blemish. 

"Who are you, what are you?"

"Im an agent."

"Are you human?"

"I'm as real as you."

"And you really kill people for a living?"

"I used to work for the ICA, the "International Contract, Agency".

"What happened, you got canned?"

"I chose not to complete a contract, and my handler Diana, sent another agent to terminate me.

"What has this got to do with me?"

"You know too much."

"I don't know shit."

"It doesn't matter, you're involved now, and they won't stop until we're dead.

Realization, the understanding that I'm in way over my head, frightens and unnerves me.


	4. Agent 47

Sneaking out, I've followed her, and being welcomed into a man's home, she's barely in there for fifteen minutes, before she's being roughly thrown back out.

To be continued...


End file.
